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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731878">Mukashi</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pekori/pseuds/pekori'>pekori</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anonymous Kink Meme Fills (Bleach) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dubious Consent, F/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:48:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pekori/pseuds/pekori</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there were other people in Inoue's life. Now, there is only Aizen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aizen Sousuke/Inoue Orihime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anonymous Kink Meme Fills (Bleach) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mukashi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Original request:</b> Orihime Inoue x Sousuke Aizen. Be as smutty as possible haha!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Inoue could vaguely recall being told a name for these feelings, some time, long ago. Then again, what could "long ago" even mean anymore? She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen any of her friends from Karakura town or Soul Society, their failed rescue mission having come and gone.</p><p>"Long ago." <i>Mukashi.</i></p><p>It was so clean, but almost a little sad, like the Espada who had for so long been her caretaker. Inoue gave a half-smile thinking of that silly tear-stained face and that frown he always wore and she missed him.</p><p>"Ul...quiorra," she spoke aloud, dreamily, almost not quite remembering.</p><p>A deep, cold voice answered her with a curious <i>hn?</i> and startled her from her thoughts, scattering them easily, as they tended to be. "Nothing, Sensei. Just thinking."</p><p>"You know it isn't good of you to remember those people," Aizen-sama spoke, approaching her with a kind face though the distant chill his reiatsu gave off belied him before he ever reached her. His hand touched her face gently, fingers curling under her delicate chin to lift it up to look at him. She could have stayed that way for hours, days...those eyes kept every thought and instinct from her as long as they held her own gaze.</p><p>"I know, Sensei," Inoue whispered, and tried to drop her eyes in shame. But she couldn't. She was trapped.</p><p>"You are one of the lucky ones. You managed to prove yourself quite useful even after the fact." He smiled, his lips curled too perfectly for it to be genuine, but Inoue smiled back anyway.</p><p>"I couldn't bear to leave you, Sensei. Not after all you've done for me."</p><p>"Speaking of... it has been quite a long while since we last spent time together, no? Perhaps we should fix that."</p><p>Inoue smiled blankly, her eyes caught and focused. Entranced. They stayed that way even after Aizen-sama turned from her, his hand falling from her face, to lead the way from the bedroom she'd lived in since before she could remember.</p><p>They passed down the corridor, the broken remains of his innumerable Arrancar army scattered here and there about the grounds of Hueco Mundo and within the ever eerily still walls of Las Noches. She had never bothered to learn most of their names, and only attempted to stay familiar with the few remaining Espada from the winter battle of long ago. They passed one of them along the way —Número Dos, though he hadn’t always held that rank—but she moved just a bit closer to Aizen-sama as they passed him; she still wasn't entirely comfortable with the way that his one eye leered, even though it had been such a long time since he'd actually tried anything. Not since she came to belong to Aizen-sama.</p><p>Finally arriving at his bedroom, he gestured for her to enter first, and she approached the large bed to the sounds of him shutting and locking the door. There truly was no need for any locks—his subordinates knew better than to disturb him when he was in his chambers, especially when he was with her—but it was a formality that eased her mind and made their time together much more comfortably spent. She would focus more easily on him than on the prospect of being caught in such compromising positions.</p><p>Aizen-sama turned to find her seated at the edge of the mattress, hands in her lap and knees together, waiting for him. He smiled that black smile and approached her, his fingers running through that beautifully straight burnt-orange hair. It was considerably longer than it had been when she first came here; she never cut it because she knew he liked it so long. When at last the ends of it slipped through his fingers like water, he neared her just enough to urge her to lie back on the bed, legs still draped over the side. He set his hands at her tiny waist, lifting her to help her up onto the mattress properly, waiting until she'd settled before beginning to strip her.</p><p>Inoue had never particularly liked this part, even now. His fingers were so meticulous, undoing each fastener and removing each article in such a painstaking fashion that it seemed never-ending. Perhaps if she could have concentrated on anything else, it might not have been so bad. But that chilly reiatsu kept her quite alert to each of his movements, each carefully controlled inhale and exhale, each short-lived breeze of his scent as his arms worked over her. The worst, though, was when he finally got her down to her undergarments and there was nothing but thin, white silk between her flesh and his large, bold hands.</p><p>He always removed the brassiere first, thumbs intentionally gliding over nipples that had grown hard long before her clothes had been removed. She always gasped when it happened, unable to restrain the surge of electric heat that touch never failed to generate. This was the part when it almost became good again, when she could tell herself it wasn't only she that could be tender and loving. After discarding the bra, letting it slink off the edge of the mattress to pool in a dully shimmering heap on the floor, he would return one hand to her flesh, pinching one of those hardened, rosy buds between thumb and forefinger to elicit more of those strained gasps and whines from her. She squirmed beneath him, the pressure he exerted almost enough to hurt, but stopped immediately when his other hand slid unabashedly into her matching silk panties, somewhat unsuitably calloused fingers running expertly between the two soft folds of skin, grinding mercilessly against her. She would always flush and he would always smile.</p><p>"Sensei," she breathed, simultaneously trying to move away from one hand and into the other, her torso writhing while her hips bucked. "Please, Sensei." He would never hear her whimpering, fingers continuing to move in almost boredom over such sensitive areas, teasing each with almost intolerable carelessness. Then, more than likely because he truly could sense it, Aizen-sama would pull his hands away from her—first one, then the other—just as she was nearing climax. After so long, Inoue had learned not to protest, as it meant she would get what she sought much more quickly than if she did make a fuss. Instead, she risked opening her eyes again, watching as he delicately stripped himself of his own clothing. He never let her help him, only watch and wait and anticipate the last bit of cloth being discarded on top of the rest mingling at the foot of the bed. It was nearly as excruciating as when he would strip her. To not be able to touch that skin, feel the way the muscles rolled just beneath the surface as they flexed and contracted, to run her own soft hands over the coarse, comforting hair along his arms, his thighs...</p><p>For the first time in such a long time, Inoue dared to reach out for him, all too conscious of the dampness of the silk between her thighs, and not wanting to wait any longer. Her fingers easily found just the mark they were looking for, combing gingerly through the deep mahogany hair covering only a small patch of unguarded flesh above his fundoshi. In her peripheral vision, her eyes much too keenly focused on her disobedience, she saw his arms halt and suddenly became very afraid.</p><p>"Quite bold of you, Hime," he spoke, his tone cool and unreadable. He lowered himself over her again, his arms strong, foreboding pillars on either side of her head, and moved his mouth beside one of her ears. "Perhaps you would like to finish the job, then?" Inoue flinched at the words, having expected a reprimanding. When they finally entered her ear and began to be processed, her wide, brown eyes stared at him without quite comprehending. He wore that false smile, his eyes urging her to continue of her own volition lest he halt the proceedings altogether, until she finally understood and let her fingers slowly hook over the cloth. Then she brought the other up to assist, the pair working in tandem to reverently slide the cotton over his strong thighs, marveling slightly at the feel of his warm skin and how even her most delicate touch could spark no reaction from him. His knees lifted slightly to let her complete the motion, and then the pair of them lay bare and parallel, though Inoue was careful to retract her hands and lay them above her head subordinately. She was unsurprised and even a little glad when Aizen-sama reached up to encircle and pin them together at the wrist with one of his own.</p><p>Inoue felt the mattress shift as he settled his weight on his knees. Then he lifted his free hand from beside her, replacing it into her now uncomfortably wet undergarments. For a moment, Inoue thought he would simply return to his earlier ministrations, again bringing her just shy of orgasm. His fingers did resume their frustratingly exact motions, knowing the precise angle and pressure to use to have her body craving that touch without any effort at all. The moment was just as frustratingly brief, however, and she actually felt the sound of angry protest rising in her throat. She bit it back at once when she felt his fingers trailing her own damp heat down her thigh as he finally slid off the last of her clothing. It was everything she could do not to kick her legs impatiently, to just get it over with already so that he would no longer have any way of teasing her. Past all of her carnal hunger, though, she knew he could always find other ways of distracting himself and trying her patience; she was no longer quite so naive as to think a lack of clothing would be enough to keep him focused on her wants.</p><p>He surprised her for the second time when his fingers, the moisture on them having chilled slightly in the open air, entered her without any warning. Inoue took in a sharp breath, more in relief than anything else, and felt herself clamping around his fingers as if it might keep them there. He obliged her desires, idly working the pair of digits in and out of her, hooking them slightly each time he felt her muscles relax. She cried out at each sensation, every nerve in her body feeling too sensitive, too alert. In contrast, as if her mind were focusing all its efforts on her tactile sense, each of the others dulled. Her eyes were shut, her hearing reduced to little more than the muffled sounds coming from her own throat, and the only smell and taste were those of her hot breath, slightly sweet with excitement, as she panted to urge him to continue.</p><p>She should have anticipated him once more depriving her of climax, yet if she hadn't already been biting back so many of her moans, she might have made a much louder noise of unabashed frustration. There was a tiny, nearly inaudible squelch as he withdrew his fingers from her, yet she could almost hear the way the thin, clear strand connecting his fingers to her snapped as he broke free of the only hold she ever managed to keep on him. It would be that simple.</p><p>"Sensei," she called again, her voice nowhere near as small as it had been before. He quieted her, placing those same two fingers over her mouth, pressing her lips shut as if he meant to seal them together with her own fluids. Partly in defiance and partly in desperation, Inoue instead parted her lips once again, her tongue darting out to help pull those digits inside, cleaning them of her mess.</p><p>If she'd had her eyes open, or if she'd only been paying the least bit of mind to anything but her own hunger, she would have seen the way his eyes flashed, lighting for that one instant when she proved to him that he had total control. It was that sense of power, dominance, and infallibility that got him off, and nothing more. He would deign to continue to use her for his own sake, but it would and could never be her that truly brought him that kind of satisfaction. It could have been anyone lying beneath him, tongue working over his fingers, grossly gobbling down their own taste—indeed, long before the Princess had come to live with him, it had been several others, from his own former lieutenant to various Espada. It never mattered who it was, only that they gave themselves up to him utterly and completely. It was never until that happened that he could even hope for any kind of release.</p><p>Still sucking greedily, any trace of herself long since swallowed, Inoue allowed Aizen-sama to puppet her, laying each limb where he wanted it. His one hand released her wrists, but as he didn't move them, she left them there, one layered over the other as if held by invisible restraints. It then moved to shift her legs, parting them wider still, and slid beneath one of her thighs to lift her slightly so that she might rest them against his. A distracted part of her reveled in the coarseness of that touch, the friction of their contrast; the rest of her called out shamelessly as he reentered her, not sparing a thought to gentleness as there was no longer any need for it.</p><p>Her hands fisted, fighting against their imagined bindings while her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him deeper inside. Every inch of her screamed for him, and even when he had nothing left to bury in her, her heels continued to press into his back. She needed to keep that fullness there, she wouldn't let him deny her release any longer. Despite her efforts, Aizen-sama easily pulled back, his almost impossibly strong body passively fending Inoue off. She whimpered wantonly as he pushed back in, her voice and breasts jumping slightly with the force of it. Each thrust was even, but harsh, the rounded bones of his hips hitting the backs of her thighs to leave blueprints for the bruises she would endure for the next week. Those bruises were a gift. Those bruises were earned and desired just as much as the warm, throbbing lust connecting the two of them, that she kept her tight grip around, that she wouldn't relinquish for anyone or thing in existence.</p><p>Inoue came so hard and so suddenly that she scarcely had the time to expect it. Her muscles spasmed violently, some trembling, some crying, some desperately continuing to pull at that bond she knew would be broken all too soon. With her eyes closed there was a brief flash of a memory, a name, a blur like a body in the midst of attack, but it was gone before she could fully realize it. She wasn't meant to pay any mind to those thoughts anyway, and so focused instead on controlling her sporadic breathing and willing the energy expended by her orgasm not to ebb away quite so quickly.</p><p>Her body still twitched in places as Aizen-sama moved away from her, but she smiled weakly, shifting her aching legs a little to move them back together, to keep what remained of that warmth trapped inside. Both knew he could bring her to climax with a single hand if he wanted to—and he tended to more often than not—so it was something special when she managed to bring him with her. Those thoughts and the unstoppable relief of such tension soothed her, lulling her so near sleep she could hardly pay heed to the words Aizen-sama spoke.</p><p>"I truly hope that you will always remain so useful, Hime."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted on bleachanonkink at LiveJournal.com. Lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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